“I had a dreadful headache,” answered Margaret, trying to control herself.
Susie flung herself down wearily in a chair. Margaret forced herself to speak.
“Had Nancy anything particular to say to you?” she asked.
“She never turned up,” answered Susie irritably. “I can’t understand it. I waited till the train came in, but there was no sign of her. Then I thought she might have hit upon that time by chance and was not coming from England, so I walked about the station for half an hour.”
She went to the chimneypiece, on which had been left the telegram that summoned her to the Gare du Nord, and read it again. She gave a little cry of surprise.
“How stupid of me! I never noticed the postmark. It was sent from the Rue Littré.”
This was less than ten minutes’ walk from the studio. Susie looked at the message with perplexity.
“I wonder if someone has been playing a silly practical joke on me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But it’s too foolish. If I were a suspicious woman,” she smiled, “I should think you had sent it yourself to get me out of the way.”
The idea flashed through Margaret that Oliver Haddo was the author of it. He might easily have seen Nancy’s name on the photograph during his first visit to the studio. She had no time to think before she answered lightly.
“If I wanted to get rid of you I should have no hesitation in saying so.”
